


Ode to Broken Things

by angel



Series: Bookstore AU [1]
Category: White Collar RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel/pseuds/angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt runs a hipster bookstore in the Village. Tim comes in one day, looking for a book of poetry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ode to Broken Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [embroiderama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/gifts).



> My first published foray into WC RPS. Written for embroiderama at her WC RPF Meme, which is all things awesome.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim meets Matt and the sparks fly.

After spending the better part of the afternoon searching for it, Tim was so relieved to finally find the little bookshop tucked away down a side street in the Village that he almost didn't notice the handsome man behind the counter.

"Welcome to Have Book Will Travel," the man said, looking up with a warm smile. "Fiction is to the right, Nonfiction and Poetry to the left. Let me know if you need help finding something."

Tim immediately noticed his bright blue eyes and had a hard time looking away. To cover the inappropriate staring, he ducked down the first aisle of bookcases and took a moment to calm himself. He had never seen anyone as gorgeous in his life. 

It took a minute for Tim to remember what he was looking for, and then he scanned the books around him to see what section he was in. Poetry, perfect. He followed the alphabet down to the Ns, but didn't see anything that he wanted. 

Bracing himself, he looked around the corner and saw that the man at the counter was working diligently on something, maybe a drawing. His head was down, concentrating as his hand swept across the paper. There was something in it; charcoal he realized a moment later. There was a smudge of it across his cheek too.

"Excuse me. I was looking for Pablo Neruda, but I don't see it back here."

When the man looked up, a curled lock of hair fell across his forehead and all Tim wanted to do was brush it back for him. He smiled again and made his way around the counter. The snug, faded FDNY t-shirt and loose-fitting slate gray cargo pants were quickly overshadowed by the black forearm crutches the man was using. Tim was surprised but tried not to let it show. There was something very sexy about the ease with which the man handled the crutches.

" _Y aquel reloj cuyo sonido era la voz de nuestras vidas, el secreto hilo de las semanas…_ " He quoted as he dodged a display of calendars and the rotating rack of 'leave a book, take a book' paperbacks. "Are you looking for a specific book?"

Tim's mind went blank, and he froze, wide-eyed, until the other man laughed.

"It's okay. I know we have three or four copies over here." He crutched around the corner from where Tim had been looking. "I'm Matt, by the way."

"Tim." At least he was able to remember his own name. 

"Can you give me a hand, Tim?" Matt called and Tim hurried around to see what he needed. "Neruda's on the top shelf."

It was a stretch for Tim, and he wondered how Matt was able to stock the shelves that high. Not that he was short. He was only a couple of inches less than Tim. "Libro de las Preguntas. This is the one." 

Matt grinned. "There's a joke in here somewhere about you not being able to remember the name of Book of Questions."

Tim chuckled and followed him back to the cash register. "It's been a helluva day. My mind just went-" he made 'swept away' gesture with his hands.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Matt licked his lips and ducked his head under the counter. "I have something here. Hang on a second." 

Tim tried not to look at the curve of his back and the way his muscles worked under the tight t-shirt. Matt clearly worked out as Tim could definitely see muscles he didn't even know existed.

His head popped up a moment later, and Tim averted his eyes to a multi-colored display of Tic-Tacs. Absently, he grabbed a container of orange ones and tossed them onto the counter with his book. 

However, Matt didn't seem to notice. He held up a paperback with a green cover, and Tim immediately knew what it was. A first edition Libro de las Preguntas. He'd been looking for one for years but had instead accumulated a stack of random editions from small bookstores all over the world.

"That's… wow. That's in good condition." Tim was hesitant to reach for it, but Matt held it out to him.

"I have some friends at the other book shops in the city. They send them to me when they find them. I'll make you a great deal."

"What's that?"

"Twenty bucks and a date next week." Matt was both smiling and blushing when he made the request, which only made Tim like him more.

"I think that can be arranged." Tim pulled out his wallet and handed over his credit card. 

While Matt was swiping the card and waiting for the receipt to print, Tim tilted his head to see what Matt had been drawing. It was still laying on the counter, but upside down, it looked more like chaos than anything.

"It's just something I do to pass the time," Matt said, when caught Tim looking. "Therapy, the doctors called it."

It was Tim's turn to blush. "I didn't mean to look."

"It's okay." Matt sat down on the stool behind the counter and propped his crutches against the wall behind him.

Tim gestured toward them with the pen he was using to sign the receipt. "Do you mind if I ask?" 

Matt shrugged and tried to make his tone playful, but there was a painfully raw look in his eyes. "That's more of a third date kind of story. Don't want to send you running off too soon."

Tim laughed and flipped the receipt over and scrawled his phone number and 'call me' in Spanish. "I'll see you next week."

~TBC

 

The poem that Matt quotes is, in English, Ode to Broken Things and the lines are:

_And that clock_  
 _whose sound_  
 _was_  
 _the voice of our lives,_  
 _the secret  
_ _thread of our weeks_

[English translation](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ode-to-broken-things/)  
[Spanish translation](http://www.poesi.as/pn59117.htm)

Art Credit: Banner by kanarek13


	2. The Potential (of You and Me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Tim's first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to embroiderama for the prompt that has eaten my brain and the encouragement. Title from the Death Cab for Cutie song, "I Will Possess Your Heart".
> 
> This chapter also features Willie Garson.

Matt was looking forward to his first date with Tim in a way that he hadn't looked forward to a date in a long time. Admittedly, he didn't date much, and most guys made excuses once they saw the crutches anyway. Tim was different; he'd been surprised but hadn't stared too much and had asked about them as politely as Matt had ever heard anyone ask.

He waited a day before calling Tim to figure out the best night to get together, and within three minutes, Matt knew he couldn't wait until the next week. He'd really only said that to give one or both of them an out if they needed it. 

So, he made a reservation for Thursday night at a friend's bistro so that they would be sure to have a table and not wind up sitting at the bar, getting bumped into by every half-drunk patron that walked by. After dinner, they could take a walk by the Hudson, maybe stop at a bakery for dessert. 

It took an hour to decide on an outfit: strategically faded blue jeans, a striped white and light blue button-down with a blue striped vest and gray and blue tie. He finished it off with a brown belt that was mostly hidden by the vest. He stood in front of the mirror for a minute, trying to decide if all the stripes were too much, but they went together so well. There was enough to be awkward about tonight; he was happy to be wearing his favorite outfit. 

Some days, he really resented the extra time that it took him to get ready. He was just finishing with his hair when there was a knock at the door. "Just a minute!" It still took him a couple of minutes to wash the hair gel off his hands, put his glasses on and crutch over to the door of his first floor apartment. "Hey," he greeted Tim with a smile. "Sorry that took so long."

"Hi," Tim replied, grinning back at him. He was wearing a pair of well-fitted dark wash jeans and a burgundy polo shirt that showed off his biceps nicely. "I'm a little early, so that's my fault."

"It's okay. Come on in. I'm almost ready to go." Matt left Tim to close the door as he made his way into living room and lowered himself onto a chair to put his shoes on.

"This is a really nice place." Tim looked around but didn't linger on the pictures on the wall and the cabinet around the TV like Matt thought he would. Instead, he was more interested in taking in the whole atmosphere. Matt saw his gaze stick for a moment on the guitar in its stand by the window before he craned his neck to check out the kitchen. 

"Thanks. Some friends helped me renovate it some years back. It could probably use a new coat of paint or something by now."

Tim nodded and took a seat on the couch while Matt was tying his blue Vans. They were comfortable, easy to move in, and didn't make a lot of noise if his feet scrapped the ground. All pluses in his book. 

Matt pushed himself up in one fluid motion and got himself situated with the crutches while Tim was standing. "Let's go."

"Where are we going? Unless it's a surprise." 

Matt chuckled. "A friend owns a bistro down the street, and he's holding a table for us." 

"Sounds great." Tim waited patiently for Matt to lock up and then fell into step beside him as they made their way down the street. 

The silence wasn't quite comfortable, and Matt struggled to think of something to ask. "So, what do you do? For a living, I mean."

"I'm an architect. I have a small firm in Manhattan."

"That's an interesting job. Have you designed anything that I would recognize?"

"How much time have you spent in Lima, Ohio?"

Matt shook his head but smiled. "Not much, I'm afraid."

Tim cracked a grin. "My firm designed a school there. I can show you the sketches and pictures sometime."

"I would really like that." Matt slowed down and came to a stop outside a small restaurant with a few tables on the sidewalk. "This is it."

Tim stepped forward and held the door open for Matt, who frowned but made his way inside.

"Matt!" Willie, one of Matt's oldest friends, greeted from across the room. He hurried over and clapped his hands together. "How've you been? I haven't seen you in a while. And is this your-? Hi, I'm Willie."

Tim took Willie's hand and shook it. "Tim. Nice to meet you."

"Same here, same here." Willie wiggled his eyebrows at Matt and smiled. "I've got your favorite table. Right this way."

Willie led them to a table in the corner where they could see out the large windows at the front of the bistro. He waited until Matt was seated to hand over the menus he'd grabbed from the bar on the way to the table. 

"I'll have a glass of the Pinot Noir." Matt regarded Tim for a moment before adding, "Willie has an excellent beer selection too."

"Am I that obvious?" 

"You made a face when I ordered the wine. It was cute. Wrinkled nose, little downturn of the lip." He laughed. "I promise I won't judge. Unless you order something domestic."

"I'll have a Guinness," Tim told Willie, who nodded and wandered off to welcome another couple who was coming in the door.

"Not bad."

"Thanks, I think."

They both laughed at that. "The truffle burger is amazing. Or the ribs. Actually, pretty much everything is good."

"I had my eye on the burger," Tim confessed. 

Willie popped up beside them, already writing on his notation pad. "So, that's a truffle burger. You look like a medium rare kind of guy."

Tim seemed impressed and Matt laughed again. "That's right. Does that come with fries?"

"Only the best in the city." Willie eyeballed Matt for a moment and then started writing again. "Grilled Scottish Salmon with a side salad, hold the onions."

Matt nodded and handed over his menu, which he'd never opened. "Willie has a sixth sense about food."

"Pfft," Willie made an offended noise. "I know what people like. Sue me." And then he was off again. "Your drinks will be up in a minute."

Tim glanced over his shoulder at where the restaurateur had gone and then hooked a thumb in his direction. "When and where did you meet him?"

Matt grinned, but he wasn't sure how to answer. Willie had stuck by him through some pretty dark phases of his life, and he usually thought of him more as a father than a friend. An eccentric father, but a father nonetheless. "That's kind of a long story. He and my mom dated for a very short time when I was eighteen. We kept in contact, and he's been a really great to me over the years."

Tim accepted the answer and moved the conversation toward movies and music and books. While Matt nursed his one glass of wine and Tim had a second Guinness, they chatted easily through dinner until the check came. 

Matt reached for the check tray at the same time that Tim did, and they had an awkward moment of staring each other down before Matt tugged it in his direction. "It's my treat. I asked you out, and I chose the restaurant."

"At least let me pay for my half." Tim didn't look like he was going to back down, but Matt had faced tougher opponents at higher stake games before.

"No, no. Tonight's on me." Matt pulled his wallet out with his other hand, thumbed his debit card from its pocket, and held it out. As if this were a rehearsed dance, Willie swung by the table and grabbed it. 

Tim's eyes narrowed and he slowly removed his hand from the check tray. "Well, the second date will be on me."

"So, there's going to be a second date?" Matt hoped he didn't sound too eager, but he liked Tim, and the conversation between the two was pretty easygoing. They liked much of the same movies and books, which was a step up from most of the guys that he'd dated. 

"Saturday at six?"

Matt scrunched his nose and frowned. "I'm working at the store until six. Is eight too late?"

"Eight would be great." Tim blushed at the rhyme but didn't call himself out.

Willie returned with Matt's card and receipt. While Matt was signing it, Willie leaned over and said, in sotto voce, "I like this one. Bring him around again."

Matt laughed and nodded. "We'll see you later, Willie."

It took a minute for Matt to get to his feet, and Tim was clearly itching to help. It was harder, though, when other people tried to give him a hand. Matt knew his body and how to get it do what he wanted it to do. Wine always affected him to a degree, and it took a little longer to get his mind and his body to work together again. 

Tim didn't say anything as Matt maneuvered himself through the restaurant and out the door, though he did reach out and press a hand to Matt's back when he overbalanced while opening the door by himself. The hand was warm and solid, and Matt wished Tim would touch him again. 

"So," Tim said, as they made their way down the street, "did you want to go straight home?"

"Actually, I thought we'd take a walk down by the river. Unless you're tired?"

"Sounds good," Tim replied, and they turned down the next street. They were only a couple of blocks from the riverwalk next to the Hudson, so the trip was short. The conversation flowed nicely as they discussed more of their favorites: food, alcohol, books. They quoted passages and laughed about their mutual distaste for Kerouac. 

At some point, Matt turned them back into the Village, and they made their way toward his apartment. His steps were getting clumsy as he grew tired, and he was looking forward to getting off his feet, but he'd had a great night with Tim. He undoubtedly wanted to do it again. 

Matt unlocked his door with a shaking hand and cursed his body. He probably shouldn't have gone on the long walk, but he hadn't been able to help himself.

"Are you okay?" Tim asked, voice soft with concern.

Matt nodded and sighed. "Just tired. I had a really great time, Tim. Are we still on for Saturday?"

"Yes, definitely." Tim shoved his own hands in his pockets and licked his lips. He hesitated long enough that Matt got worried.

"Are _you_ okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Just-" he cut himself off and leaned forward suddeny, pressing his lips to Matt's before Matt could do or say anything. Matt tasted the spiciness of the truffle burger's sauce and nipped gently at Tim's lower lip with his teeth. He smiled when they pulled apart. 

"Good night."

"Night, Matt."

He moved inside the apartment, closed the door, and all but fell in the floor when his knees shook from the intensity of the kiss and his attraction to Tim. Matt hadn't felt like this in a really long time, and it both scared and exhilarated him.

~TBC


	3. I Will Possess Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Tim's second date doesn't go quite as smoothly as the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Thanks to embroiderama for the prompt that has eaten my brain and the encouragement. 2) Title from the Death Cab for Cutie song of the same name. 3) I have researched the medical aspects as thoroughly as I can, so any mistakes I must apologize for ahead of time. 
> 
> This chapter features some hurt/comfort.

Despite multiple texts asking for hints, Tim refused to tell Matt where they were going Saturday night. Since Matt had insisted on paying for dinner, which Tim knew was expensive, especially for a small bookstore owner, Tim was determined that the second date would be all on him. 

He'd gotten tickets at a movie theatre in his old Tribeca neighborhood for a showing of _Casablanca_. They'd talked about classic, black and white films on their first date, and Tim had never known anyone who didn't like _Casablanca_. It was a dinner and a movie style theatre, so that took care of both food and entertainment. 

Much to Matt's apparent chagrin – it was hard to really tell in text messages – Tim insisted on picking him up at eight, and Tim made sure to get there a few minutes late so that he wouldn't rush Matt to finish getting ready this time. 

If he were honest with himself, he was more than curious about Matt's crutches, but Matt seemed reluctant to talk about them or even pay attention to them aside from their necessity, so Tim wasn't ready to push him about it yet. Matt downplayed them enough that Tim didn't even notice them most of the time.

Before Tim could even get out of his SUV – a Jeep Patriot that he'd gotten mostly as a birthday gift to himself last year – Matt was exiting the front door of his building and looking up and down the street. Tim waved and walked toward him. "Hey, I was going to come in."

"I was ready a little early," Matt replied, "so I thought I'd come out and wait for you." He looked pale and tired, but he'd probably had a long day at the store. 

Tim put a hand on his back to move him toward the car, and Matt nearly toppled but steadied himself. "Sorry, I'm sorry!" That was stupid, he told himself. He shouldn't put his hands on Matt unless Matt asked him to do so. He didn't want to hurt him or cause him to get hurt.

"It's okay." Matt flashed him a reassuring smile as he made his way to the passenger door and pulled it open himself. He got into the vehicle while Tim returned to the drivers' seat.

"That was stupid of me. I'm sorry." Tim was blushing as he checked his mirrors and pulled out onto the street.

Matt reached over and touched his hand to get his attention. "I should probably have given you the tips and tricks the other night, but you have good instincts. I don't mind if you rest your hand on my back or my shoulder or whatever, but don't try to steer me in any direction. And please don't try to grab my arm for anything. I will fall, and it will be incredibly embarrassing for everyone involved." He chuckled at that which encouraged Tim to smile.

"Anything else I should know?" Tim left it open to interpretation to see what Matt would say.

"Let's see. Think of the crutches as a part of me, so let me handle them. I can open doors for myself for the most part."

"That was-"

"Chivalry, I know. That's why I didn't say anything the other night." Matt moved Tim's hand and intertwined their fingers so that he could squeeze them. "I really appreciate how well you're handling all this."

"You make it easy," Tim replied honestly. "You're kind of incredible."

Matt was silent for a moment, and Tim looked over at him when they were stopped a light. "You think that?"

Tim nodded and lifted Matt's hand to kiss the soft skin on the back. "You're strong, you're kind, you're a great kisser."

Matt smiled and pointed out the windshield with his free hand. "Light's green."

They were quiet for a few minutes while Tim negotiated traffic. Then, Matt leaned forward and pressed the button to turn the radio on. It immediately came to life with the 70's satellite radio station blaring "Stayin' Alive", and they both cracked up, but neither made the move to change it. Tim made a mental note that his guilty pleasure was shared.

The rest of the drive was spent in comfortable silence that was occasionally broken by one or both of them singing along with the radio. When they got the theatre, Tim found a parking spot just down the street, and then they made it inside without any trouble. Matt chose seats in the back row on the aisle; it was the first request that Matt had made of him, so Tim agreed to let him decide the best place to sit. Tim liked to be in the exact middle of the theatre for the picture and sound quality, but he trusted that Matt had a reason for sitting where he wanted to sit too.

Almost as soon as the lights dimmed, Matt started to squirm in his seat. Every few minutes, the old theatre chair squeaked as he shifted and leaned one way or the other. Tim also noticed that he had one hand on his left thigh and was alternatively rubbing or squeezing the muscle there.

It took Tim fifteen minutes to lean over and whisper, "You okay?"

Even in the dim light of the screen, Matt looked miserable when he turned his face toward Tim and shook his head. "Muscle spasm. I don't have any medication on me. Dammit." He clenched his eyes shut and held his breath for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"What can I do?" Tim wished he knew more about Matt's condition and what to do when something like this happened. He hated feeling useless, but that's exactly how he felt.

"Can we go? Do you mind? I'm really sorry." Matt continued to apologize as Tim nodded and waited for Matt to get up and start making his way toward the door. It was a much slower progress that Tim was used to seeing Matt make, and he stopped to rest a few times before they even made it back into the lobby of the theatre.

Once they were in the light, Tim could see that Matt was sweating and his face was drawn with pain. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Matt shook his head and managed to get as far as the sidewalk before he had to stop and lean against the wall. He was all but pounding his fist against his thigh, and Tim winced in sympathy. "Would you bring the car around?"

Tim wasn't sure if that was to get rid of him or not, but he wasn't going to make Matt walk all the way down the street if Matt didn't feel like he could do it. He hurried back to the SUV and drove around the block as quickly as he could. 

Matt was at the curb, leaning against a parking meter when Tim double-parked and flipped on the hazard lights, and he was pulling himself inside the car clumsily as Tim hopped out and ran around to help him. In the end, Matt let him take the crutches to store in the backseat while he got his legs inside and buckled himself in.

The drive was tense and quiet. Matt breathed through the pain and continued to massage the muscle, which made Tim's hands twitch with the desire to help. He silently vowed to research the hell out of Matt's condition when he found out what it was.

"Would you, uh," Matt said, startling Tim from his thoughts, "Would you tell me something about yourself? I don't know anything besides your job, and I'd like to know you better." 

Tim suspected that he also wanted to not be the center of attention for a while too, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "I have a daughter."

Matt coughed when he gasped in surprise and upset the delicate balance of breathing he'd been doing. "Tell me more."

"She's almost sixteen, and she lives with her mother, Tiffani, in LA. She flies out for every other holiday and for two weeks in the summer. It's not perfect, but we're making it work. She says she wants to go to college out here. NYU or maybe Columbia." Tim knew he was rambling, but he could talk about her for days. 

Matt was starting to relax little by little, and his voice was less strained when he inquired, "What's her name?"

"Alexandra," he replied with a proud smile. 

"How long were you and her mother together? If you don't mind my asking." He slumped back against the seat, and when Tim glanced over at him, his face looked exhausted but pain-free.

Tim shook his head. "We were never really together. We were friends in college and fooled around a bit, and then later, when her marriage broke up, we spent some time together. Clearly, we weren't as careful as we should have been."

Matt nodded and sat up a little straighter when he saw that they were on his block. Tim reached over and gave his hand a squeeze as he double-parked right in front of the apartment building's front door. He hovered as Matt laboriously made his way inside but kept his hands to himself until they got to Matt's door. There, Tim took the keys from him when his hand shook too hard to get the right one isolated, much less get it in the lock. 

Matt made it three steps into the apartment before his knees buckled. Tim was right behind him and instinctively grabbed him around the waist and pulled him back toward his chest in an awkward hug. 

"Matt?"

"I'm okay," Matt replied, voice tense again. "Give me a second." Tim kept his arms wrapped around Matt while the younger man got his legs back under him. "Okay. You can let go."

Tim tentatively took a step back but kept his arms out in case he was needed again.

Tim followed Matt's slow progress down the hall to the bedroom, where he pretty much collapsed onto the bed and sighed. "In the bathroom, there's a medicine cabinet. Would you bring me the bottle of baclofen and a glass of water? Please."

Tim easily found the bathroom across the hall from the bedroom. There were several prescription bottles inside the cabinet, but he didn't look at all of them. As soon as he found the right bottle, he put it in his pocket and then headed for the kitchen. 

There was a large, gas stove against the back wall with ample counter space on either side, and there was a large island in the center of the kitchen with a built-in sink and several appliances. The architect in him wanted to study the arrangement, but the lover in him wanted to get back to Matt. It took him a minute of rummaging through the cabinets before he found the glasses.

When he returned to the bedroom, the light was on and Matt had pulled his legs up onto the bed and was lying with his head on a pillow. His eyes were closed, but they slowly opened when Tim approached. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah." He propped himself up on his elbows and accepted the pill bottle first. He shook a pill out and put it in his mouth before exchanging the bottle for the glass. Once he was done with both, Tim put them on the night stand and sat down on the bed next to Matt's hip.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

Matt shook his head. "I'm really sorry about this. I love _Casablanca_."

"You don't have to apologize. Things happen. It's okay, I promise." Tim glanced around the bedroom and saw another guitar on a stand in the corner, which made him want to hear Matt play one day. There was a sleek wheelchair on the other side of the bed, and a variety of fitness equipment littered across the floor. A flat screen TV and more framed pictures took up the wall across from the bed.

"I know you're curious," Matt said, reaching out to squeeze Tim's forearm. "I'm too tired to tell you about it tonight, but I'll make it up to you. Come over tomorrow for dinner."

"Okay." Tim used his other hand to squeeze Matt's fingers and then leaned forward to kiss him on the lips and then the forehead. "Get some sleep. Call me in the morning and let me know how you're doing, okay?"

Matt clumsily waved him off and gave him a sleepy, but reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Will you lock up on your way out?"

Tim nodded and scrubbed a hand down his face. "I hate leaving you here alone like this."

Matt clearly wasn't up to much more conversation and was even less interested in fighting with him. "I'm just going to sleep most of the night. You can sleep on the couch if you want, but it's not that comfortable. I'd offer you the other side of the bed, but I'd probably kick you tonight." He waved a hand in the direction of his leg and then let it flop back on the comforter. 

Tim frowned and kissed him one more time. "Call me if you need anything. Four a.m., whatever. Just call me."

"Promise," Matt murmured. He waved half-heartedly, and then he was asleep.

Tim turned out the bedside lamp and made his way back down the hallway using the moonlight coming in through the living room windows to navigate the unfamiliar space. There was a large picture on the wall right in the light that made Tim pause on his way out. It was of a group of firefighters sitting on a truck, and Tim easily found Matt, grinning madly, and sitting on the top with his arms around two of the other guys. Underneath the picture, the text read FDNY Squad 452, February 2001. 

He made sure to lock the door when he exited the apartment, but he couldn't get Matt out of his head as he made his way home. Matt was an amazing man, and Tim really hoped that he wouldn't let what happened tonight be a reason or an excuse to push Tim away. He wanted to spend more time with Matt; he wanted to let himself fall in love again. 

~TBC


	4. (It's Like a Book) Elegantly Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Tim's third date is a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Thanks to embroiderama for the prompt that has eaten my brain and the encouragement, and theatregirl7299 for taking a peek before I posted. 2) Title from the Death Cab for Cutie song, "I Will Possess Your Heart". 3) I have researched the medical stuff as thoroughly as I can, so any mistakes I must apologize for ahead of time. 
> 
> Warnings: Discussion of permanent injury and the events surrounding it.

Matt woke the next morning feeling much better physically but was incredibly embarrassed by how he'd been forced to cut Tim's date short. It was a reality that he'd been dealing with for a long time, but Tim had looked so lost and confused, and he hated that. It was time to tell him everything. 

He had the day off work because the store was being taken care of by Marsha, Matt's sole employee. She had become a good friend of his after he hired her more than three years ago, and he had no trouble leaving the store in her very capable hands whenever something came up regarding his health or his family. 

When his cleaning lady came at eleven, he had to get out of the apartment. She made his life so much easier, but he found it difficult to be there while she was working. He grew up in a middle class family in Texas as the middle child and never dreamed of employing a maid one day.

Lunch was spent with Willie while he worked out the menu for dinner with Tim. Willie wanted to cater it, but Matt was a pretty good cook and Tim deserved a home-cooked meal after the previous night. He used Willie's laptop to order groceries for a late afternoon delivery and then went down the street to the bakery to pick up something sweet for dessert. He could cook but baking was a whole other thing entirely.

By the time that Tim knocked on the door, Matt was wearing a green button-down with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans. He was barefoot since they were staying in and he hadn't bothered to put any socks on after his pre-date shower.

"Come on in! Door's open!" Matt gave the sauce a stir and then turned to see Tim walk into the kitchen in a dark blue shirt and khakis. He looked great, showing off his biceps again, and Matt grinned.

Tim smiled and walked over to Matt, who was standing on his own. His crutches were propped up in the corner a few paces away. "Hey, you're looking better."

Matt pulled him into a kiss and then reluctantly let him go. "I'm much better. Why don't you take a seat? There's beer in the fridge and a bottle opener on the bar."

"I can help-"

"Nope. Not tonight. Go get a drink and sit down." Matt whacked his hand playfully with a wooden spoon and gave him a push toward the fridge. 

"It smells delicious." Tim popped the top off his bottle of Guinness and sat down on one of the barstools on the other side of the island to watch Matt work.

Matt turned and put one hand on the island counter for balance as he offered Tim the spoon from the sauce so that he could have a taste. "It's a family recipe."

"Mmmmm." Tim flashed a thumbs up. "It tastes even better than it smells."

He chuckled and turned the sauce down so that it wouldn't burn while the noodles were still boiling. He could feel Tim's eyes staring at his back while he worked, but before he could say anything, Tim beat him to it.

"This is going to sound ridiculous no matter how I say it, so I'm just going to say it. You're standing there without your crutches?"

Matt put his hands on the counters for balance and turned so that he was facing Tim. "I can stand without supports and walk a little ways. It's not terribly sexy," he said, wiggling his eyebrows in hopes of breaking the awkward tension, "but I can do it."

"Would you show me?" Tim's question sounded innocent, but there were only a few people that Matt let see him like this. It was his most vulnerable state, but he really liked Tim and the feelings seemed mutual.

"Just remember that this is twelve years of hard work." Matt positioned himself and took a step forward and then another and another until he was standing beside Tim's chair. They were almost smooth enough to be natural, but there was a bit of clumsiness to them, like he was telling his feet what to do before they moved and they were fighting him on it. 

Tim gave him a kiss as soon as he stood still and smiled proudly when they broke apart. "That was amazing."

"Thank you." 

"Twelve years?"

Matt nodded and started his trek back to the stove. The timer for the noodles was just beginning to beep. "Are you sure you want to talk about this before dinner?"

"I just want to know more about you, Matt. Last night, I was worried, and I didn't know what to do or how to help. It hurt to see you in pain and not be able to do anything about it." Tim looked away but not fast enough to hide the tears shining in his eyes.

Matt took a deep breath, turned the burner off, pulled the noodles from the stove, and dumped them into the colander in the sink to drain. "I was twenty when I joined the fire department. I moved here from Texas when I was eighteen to go to school, but I didn't really know what to declare as a major and instead of wasting my or my parents' money any longer, I took some time off to figure it out. I met some firefighters in a bar one night, and they were really great guys. 

"I worked hard, and I made Squad when I was twenty-three. Squad's the jack-of-all-trades in firefighting, not quite as elite as Rescue, but you can do a lot of the same things – vehicle extraction, search and rescue, hazmat. It was exciting to be part of that crew, and those guys were all like brothers to me. We worked well together. It was amazing – your adrenaline gets pumping and you feel like you can do anything."

He talked while he poured the sauce into a separate dish and made sure all the burners on the stove were off. And he avoided looking at Tim, not sure how he would react to the next part. "I don't remember the call or even responding to it. To be honest, I don't remember much about that day, but the whole world watched it on TV."

"September 11th," Tim all but whispered. Matt glanced at him and saw the emotion written across Tim's face as he recalled his own memories of that terrible day.

"They said that I was inside a stairwell in the North Tower when it collapsed. Search and rescue found me and pulled me out. Most of my crew wasn't so lucky. There were a lot of good men and women that di-" His throat closed around the word, and he bit his lip and turned his face away.

Tim stood and walked around the island to pull Matt into a hug. Matt didn't return it immediately, stuck in memories that were painful and horrifying. It was true that he didn't remember much of that day, but the aftermath was vivid and real. He'd visited more graves and memorials that he wanted to think about after his release from the hospital.

"I'm so sorry," Tim whispered, "for bringing this up. I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

Matt finally came back to himself and wrapped his arms around Tim, letting the older man's steady strength and warmth envelope him. "I wanted you to know. I was planning on telling you tonight."

"I know." Tim rubbed circles between Matt's shoulder blades with one hand and cradled the back of his neck with the other until Matt felt calm enough to let go. 

He took a step back and rubbed his hands over his face to wipe away the tears he didn't know he'd cried. It didn't matter how much time had passed; it always hurt to talk about that day and the friends that he still missed so much. 

They were both silent until Tim gestured toward the sauce and noodles and asked, "Can I help with any of this?" 

"Would you take the sauce to the table while I put the noodles in a bowl?" 

"Of course," Tim replied.

Matt took the time that Tim was across the room to get his emotions further under control. He had the noodles ready to go when Tim got back and handed those off. "There should be parmesan on the table, and the salad I threw together a little while ago is over there too."

"Everything looks great. Why don't you go sit down? I'll get you something to drink."

Matt thought about protesting, but he really did need to sit. He felt drained all of the sudden, and his legs were shaking. "Water, please," he requested as he grabbed his crutches and made his way to the table.

A few minutes later, they were eating quietly when Matt hit his palm against his forehead. "There was garlic Italian bread I was going to toast. I'm sorry."

Tim reached out to squeeze his hand from across the table. "It's okay. I distracted you and we have plenty of food here."

Matt nodded and decided to turn the tables for a little while. "So, you have a daughter. Tell me about her."

Tim couldn't help but pull out his wallet and slide the picture he kept there across the table. "That's her from last year when she was cheerleading. She's into some punk rock thing or something now. I can't keep up with it all, but she assures me that cheerleading is no longer _cool_."

Matt picked it up and smiled at the photo. She had Tim's brunette hair, but a couple of shades darker, and a similar face and eye shape, but her blue eyes and delicate facial features must have come from her mother. "What's her name again?"

"Alexandra," he replied with a proud smile.

Matt handed the picture back. "She's very pretty. Looks a lot like you."

"No, she looks exactly like Tiffani. She's supposed to be flying out the Saturday after next for her two weeks with me." Tim tucked the photo back into his wallet and picked his fork back up. "This is really great pasta, Matt."

Matt nodded and ate a little bit more of his dinner, but he didn't feel very hungry. "Tell me something else about you. Anything."

Tim chewed his bite slowly, and Matt got the sense that he was sharing something significant and that he was trying to think of how to phrase what he was going to say. "My last long term relationship ended six months ago. I'd been with him for almost seven years, and he turned to me in the car one day, in the middle of traffic on the BQE and told me that he didn't want to be with me anymore. We hadn't been fighting. I thought things were going well, but he wasn't happy."

Matt winced. "That's rough. I'm sorry to hear that."

"It is what it is, I guess. I had kind of sworn off dating pretty much forever before I found your store. And I'm glad I met you. I really like you, Matt." 

He looked into Tim's eyes and saw the honesty behind his words. "I really like you too."

Tim got up from his chair and walked around the table to give Matt a kiss. Matt ran his tongue across Tim's lips, requesting access, and deepened the kiss when Tim allowed him. They broke apart, breathless and smiling.

"I'll clean up," Tim said, already picking up his plate and Matt's. 

Matt half stood to protest, but Tim gave him a look that had him back in his seat immediately. Tim had a 'don't mess with me' face that rivaled Matt's own. 

"You cooked; I'll clean." 

There was no arguing with that, so Matt busied himself with other things. He made a stop in the bathroom, and then headed back out to the living room to turn on the TV and channel surf until Tim was finished. 

When Tim sat down beside him, holding a glass of water for Matt and another bottle of beer for himself, he was as close as possible without touching Matt. So Matt took matters into his own hands and did the fake yawn to put his arm around Tim's shoulders. They both laughed at his antics, and Tim relaxed back into the couch.

"There's a game on ESPN Classic or a _Die Hard_ marathon or we can find something else." Matt lifted the remote to resume the channel surfing, but Tim took it from him and turned off the TV.

"Actually, I have some questions, if that's okay."

Matt nodded, pretty sure that he knew where this was going. He hadn't gone into details about his injuries because he'd been too overwhelmed earlier.

"What… How… Why…" Tim couldn't seem to figure out how to ask what he wanted to ask, so Matt took pity on him and pressed his fingers gently to Tim's mouth to stop his bumbling.

"It's a pretty long story, but the gist of it is that I had vertebrae fractures that were stabilized with surgery, but my cord injury is incomplete, so I have some sensation and movement. I had other fractures too – ribs, leg – but the back was the biggest injury."

"And the other night?"

"My thigh was in spasm, so the muscle was really tight and wouldn't relax. It was my fault. I ran out of time that morning and didn't really exercise it like I should have. And I'd forgotten my emergency stash of pills." 

"Does that happen a lot?"

Matt made a so-so gesture with his hand. "I'm pretty diligent about exercising in the mornings to try and prevent it."

"What else should I know?"

Matt looked down at his hands as he mulled it over. After twelve years, he had a pretty good handle on everything, but there were days that he slipped up and days when his body just had to remind him that it was irreparably damaged. "We'll have to take that one day at a time. I'm lucky. I have more function that most people with a spinal injury, and I do pretty well with it all. I mean, I have my days, don't get me wrong, but I accepted it a long time ago."

Tim nodded and leaned over to press a kiss to Matt's temple. When Matt turned to look at him, Tim gave him a soft, gentle kiss on the lips. "Will you let me help you next time?" he said the words against Matt's mouth and all Matt could do was nod and kiss him again.

Matt kissed with a wild abandon born of the need to release some of the tension of the night. He'd known it would be hard to tell Tim about what happened, and it was always difficult to talk about, but now he needed to love and be loved. 

After a few minutes, they broke apart, chests heaving. "The bed is so much more comfortable." Matt laughed when Tim stood and held out a hand to help him off the couch. Matt accepted it, and they stumbled toward the bedroom together.

Later, at five past midnight, Matt's phone rang from the nightstand with an incoming call. He'd been cuddling with Tim and rolled onto his side to see who was calling. "It's just Willie," he muttered, muting the ringer and sending a quick text that he was okay and he would call in the morning. 

Before he could roll back over, he felt Tim's fingertips glide over the scars that marred his back. He'd had a few surgeries, and each had come with their own reminders. Matt shivered when Tim placed gentle kisses across his scars as his hand gripped Matt's hip to keep him in place.

"Am I hurting you?" Tim asked, softly.

"No one's ever done that before." Matt looked over his shoulder at Tim. It was a very intimate gesture for someone who'd only seen him naked for the first time a couple of hours ago, and Matt was aware that he wasn't the prettiest sight. Being a firefighter for three years had given him quite the collection of blemishes and marks.

Tim kissed Matt's shoulder and then tugged his hip gently to get him to roll back over. "You're beautiful and incredible and so many things there aren't even words for."

Matt blushed and hid his face against Tim's shoulder. "You're not so bad yourself. One might even say amazing."

Tim laughed and Matt loved the rumble that vibrated through Tim's chest and into his own. It had been a long time since he'd felt this happy and this loved. He sighed contently and moved to lie on his back, which was the only position that he could really sleep in, unfortunately.

"Stay with me tonight," Matt entreated, putting his hand on Tim's arm to keep him from getting up.

"Are you sure?" 

Matt nodded, and Tim lay on his side so that he could put his arm across Matt's chest. Matt intertwined their fingers and smiled at Tim drowsily. He'd had to get up and take his nighttime meds a little while ago, and they were taking effect.

"Get some sleep, Matty," Tim whispered, kissing Matt's temple and resting his head against Matt's shoulder. It was the last thing Matt heard before he drifted into sleep.

~TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't start this 'verse with the intention of Matt being a survivor of the attacks of September 11th, but I knew I wanted him to be a firefighter, and I wanted him to be a strong man that was thriving despite his disability. I have the utmost respect for the men and women who risk their lives every day as firefighters, police officers, and EMS, and I hope that shows through in this piece. I was a scared 18-year-old college student away from home on September 11, 2001, and I will never forget.


	5. The Tangles of My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Tim's fourth date is awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Thanks to embroiderama for the prompt that has eaten my brain and the encouragement, and for offering some great advice about this date in particular. 2) Title from the All-American Rejects song, "Swing, Swing".

Tim got caught up in a major deal at his office and didn't get to see Matt again for a few days. They still texted and FaceTimed a couple of times, but that wasn't the same as a face-to-face meeting, no matter what the Apple ad campaign told you. Especially now that he knew what was underneath Matt's casual, but usually stylish clothes.

On Wednesday, his lunch meeting was canceled a little after eleven and he stopped by his business partner Diahann's office to tell her that that he was taking an early, off-site lunch. Diahann was a no-nonsense older black woman from the Bronx, with an eye for detail and a head for accounting. She was amazing at keeping their office in order, and she liked to keep tabs on his life too. She'd been there for him after his boyfriend had left him, and she'd been asking about the smile that had been on his face since he'd met Matt, but he hadn't shared any details yet.

"Where are you running off to at this hour?" Diahann asked, raising an eyebrow at Tim and gesturing for him to take a seat in the chair across from her desk.

He stood his ground in the doorway, but he didn't run off like he'd been planning on doing. "Emmerich canceled, so I'm meeting a friend for lunch, but he doesn't know it yet, and I really need to get going."

"This friend - what's his name? Have I met him?"

"No, you haven't. His name is Matt, and he owns a used bookstore off Bleecker."

She smiled and motioned for him to go on.

"We've been on three dates, and he's great, really great. Can I go now?" Tim wouldn't share Matt's personal life with anyone, not even Diahann, who was like a mother and a big sister rolled into one. 

She nodded and called after him, "I want to meet him, Tim!"

Tim waved a hand at her as he was already halfway across the office. He wanted to stop and pick something up for Matt, but he didn't think flowers were appropriate, but chocolate might be welcome. Matt's fridge had been full of health juices and vegetables, but everyone liked chocolate.

He arrived at 12:05 and hid the small bag of gourmet chocolates behind his back when he stepped inside the bookstore. Matt was sitting behind the counter wearing his black frame glasses that Tim loved and squinting at some papers laid out in front of him. "Excuse me. Do you know where I can find the owner?"

Matt looked up at the sound of his voice and instantly smiled. "Hey, stranger. I didn't think I'd see you today."

"My lunch meeting was canceled, so I thought I would take advantage of the free couple of hours and say hi." Tim grinned, held out the bag of chocolates and said, "Hi."

"For me?" Matt took the bag and peeked inside. "Dark chocolate. Perfect."

Tim nodded, pleased that he'd guessed correctly. "I'm glad you like it."

"Thank you." 

Tim couldn't stand it any more. He leaned across the counter and kissed Matt on the lips. 

Someone behind him cleared their throat and Tim spun around to see a gorgeous, leggy woman wearing a floral print shirt in some complicated draping style and a pair of khaki shorts. "I really hope you're Tim."

Matt chuckled and introduced them. "Marsha, meet Tim. Tim, this is Marsha."

"It's nice to meet you," she said, holding out her hand to him.

Tim took it and was surprised at the strength in her handshake. "Nice to meet you too. I take it Matt's told you about me."

"Just a little." She shared a look with Matt that Tim couldn't decipher and then walked around the counter to join her boss. When she spoke again, it was directed at Tim. "I'm actually glad you're here. Would you get him out of here?" She indicated Matt with her thumb. "He's driving me crazy."

"Hey!"

"What do you mean?" Tim looked more closely at Matt's face but didn't see any signs of distress. Maybe Marsha was just having a bad day.

"He's been fretting over those reports all morning and muttering to himself. He knows I _hate_ that." Marsha scowled at Matt when he shot her a disgruntled look. 

Tim tried to get a look at the papers, but Matt was already gathering them up and slipping them underneath the counter. "Is something wrong?"

"Everything's fine. I just hate paperwork," Matt said as he got to his feet. 

Tim nodded and decided not to push and ask questions about it now. "Would you like to join me for lunch?"

Matt smiled and gathered his crutches so that he could move around the counter. "I'd like that. Where are we going?"

"I thought you might have a recommendation in the area, or we could go to the bistro again?" 

Tim followed Matt to the door, but turned when Marsha called out, "Thank you!"

He flashed her a big smile and waved. "I'll have him back in an hour."

"Take your time!"

Matt rolled his eyes at Tim once they were out on the sidewalk. "She hasn't been the best company today either, for the record."

Tim chuckled. "Where should we eat? Willie's?"

"No, he's closed this afternoon to re-work the menu. How do you feel about sushi?"

"I'd prefer to eat my own hand. What else were you thinking?"

It was Matt's turn to laugh, and Tim couldn't help but smile when he heard it. He loved listening to the sound of Matt truly amused by something. "How about pizza? There's a place just around the corner."

"Sounds good." Tim motioned for Matt to lead the way and then fell into step beside him. "So, about the paperwork. I don't want to pry but if something's wrong, I-"

Matt cut him off with "Nothing's wrong. I've never been much of a numbers guy so balancing the account and determining inventory are not really my favorite things to do."

Tim nodded and changed the subject, "So, Alexandra is coming to visit next Saturday, and I'd like for the three of us to have dinner sometime next week."

Matt's steps faltered and he stopped so that he could turn and look at Tim. "Are you sure you're – we're ready for that?"

Furrowing his brow, Tim studied Matt's face. He looked surprised and apprehensive, and Tim worried that he'd suggested the meeting too soon, but it would be months before Alexandra was back in town. "Is this going too fast? Because I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Matt looked up and down the street before he leaned against the wall behind him. There was no one else in earshot, and Tim bit his lip as he waited for Matt to say something. "It's been a long time since I've really done this, and even longer since anything progressed beyond the second or even third date. Can we slow down? A little, at least."

"Of course," Tim replied, taking a step back and putting his hands in his pockets. He hadn't wanted to make Matt uncomfortable or unhappy. "I'm sorry. It's just that I really like you, and I thought the feelings were mutual."

"They are," Matt interjected. "I really like you too, I swear. This has nothing to do with you. I have to figure out how I can do this," he gestured between them, "with these," he patted one crutch, "and everything else. It's – I haven't felt this way about anyone since before."

Tim nodded but couldn't help but wonder about Matt's previous relationships. Now wasn't the time to ask though. "Do you want to take a raincheck on lunch?"

"if I got back now, Marsha will interrogate me for the rest of the afternoon. And I'm starving. Let's grab that slice." Matt started moving toward the pizza place again.

They chatted idly while they got their food and sat down at a small table on the sidewalk that was shaded by a large umbrella with the pizza place's name and logo stamped on it. 

Tim was explaining the difference between matte and glossy paint for the apartment renovation Matt was considering doing when he caught sight of his ex-boyfriend, Andrew, walking down the street toward them. His apparent new fling, a young thing that looked like a cross between a Calvin Klein model and a Project Runway reject, was practically hanging from his arm. 

"Timmy!" Andrew called as soon as he saw them. "It's been months. How the hell are you? I'm doing really well. This is Titus. We're shopping for our trip to London in a couple of days."

Andrew had always liked talking about himself, though he used to tone it down quite a bit. Tim waited for him to take a breath before jumping in. "I'm doing great, Andy. Thanks for asking. This is Matt. Matt, meet Andrew."

"We got way back, way back," Andrew said, clapping Tim on the shoulder while he nodded at Matt. "I'd love to stay and chat, but we're on a deadline. It was a pleasure, I'm sure." 

Matt raised an eyebrow as soon as Andrew was gone. "Timmy?"

"Don't even think about it." Tim pointed an index finger at Matt and wagged it. "I hate that nickname."

"That's not your… It is, isn't it?" Matt just shook his head at Tim. "Why on earth were you with him for seven years? He's a bit…"

"Much? Yeah." Tim sighed. "He didn't used to be like that, but I guess now that he's chasing tail practically as young as my daughter that he thinks he needs to actually be like that." He shrugged. He'd only seen Andrew a couple of times since the break-up and each had been more disturbing than the last. It was like an alien had taken over his body or a mind control experiment had gone awry.

Matt snickered and finished off his slice. "As much as I'd love to sit here and tease you about this for the rest of the day, I should probably get back to the store before Marsha starts re-organizing the Fiction section again."

"Again?"

"She keeps trying to work it out so that Erotica is front and center."

Tim chuckled as he gathered their trash and tossed it in a nearby bin. "Good luck with that. I need to get back into Manhattan for a meeting."

They started back toward the bookstore in a comfortable silence. Matt was setting the pace, as usual, and Tim was happy to follow. One of the things that he liked so much about Matt was that he wasn't ashamed of his disability, and he didn't seem to mind when Tim deferred to his experience with it.

"Do you want to do dinner on Friday night?" Tim asked, when they were within sight of the bookstore. 

"Dinner sounds good," Matt replied, glancing over at Tim. "We could do something in your neighborhood."

"Sure, we can do that. Maybe I'll cook and we can watch _Casablanca_ at my place."

Matt bit his lip and stopped outside the door of his store. "I can't stay over, but I'd like that."

Tim accepted that with a nod. "Sounds like a plan then. I'll send you my address. Or I can pick you up."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's out of your way, and I am capable of getting there on my own." Matt winced at his own tone. "Sorry, that came out harsh. One of the harder things that I had to deal with when I got out of the hospital was how much more difficult it was to drive."

"You drive?"

"Not for a long time. I'll take the bus or a cab." Matt held up a hand before Tim could say anything more. "I do it all the time. It's fine." 

Tim acquiesced with a nod. He wanted to move in for a kiss but held himself back, which meant he was just standing there awkwardly, waiting for Matt to make the next move. 

"I don't want things to be weird between us," Matt said as he reached for the door handle. "We'll talk more at dinner. Thank you, for understanding."

Tim nodded and waited until Matt was safely inside before he headed back toward his SUV. He was disappointed that Matt wanted to slow things down, but he was also glad that Matt wanted to continue the relationship. Tim had thought he would be the one to be uncomfortable in a new pairing, but he understood that Matt also needed time to acclimate to this weird, wonderful thing between them.

~TBC


	6. Where I Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Tim's fifth date is sidetracked by a hospitalization, and the couple comes to a decision about their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Title from the Van Morrison song, "Crazy Love". 2) Thanks at the end this time. :)

On Friday, Matt called Tim when he left his apartment to make sure that he had the right address. Tim repeated it to him and let him know that the door would be unlocked when he arrived because Tim was jumping in the shower and didn't want to leave Matt waiting outside the door if traffic was light. 

When he got there, Matt knocked once… twice… three times without an answer. He would never walk into someone's apartment, especially not for the first time, without giving them a chance to answer the door. He stepped back to make sure that he had the correct apartment number and then saw smoke curling from under the door. He immediately pressed his hand against the wood, but it didn't feel warm. "Tim!" he called frantically as he opened the door. "Are you in here? Tim!" 

Smoke was coming from the kitchen, and the alarm was beeping loudly from the ceiling. Matt hurried into the kitchen and used one crutch to open the oven before spraying water from the sink spigot onto the burning…. something. Matt couldn't make out what it was. Once the small fire was doused, Matt flipped off the stove and checked the floor around the oven, but Tim wasn't anywhere in sight. 

Matt dropped one crutch and used that hand to dial 911 on his cell while he made his way back into the living room and then down the hall. He explained the situation as best he could to the dispatcher that answered while looking for Tim and fighting to keep his footing. He stumbled several times as he forced his feet to move faster than he was comfortable with. 

As soon as he pushed open the bathroom door, he was met with enough resistance that he lost his fragile balance and fell, landing with a jarring thud on his knees. His phone clattered across the tile and out of reach. He felt around the edge of the door until he touched a foot and then a leg. "Tim!" 

Within moments, he had maneuvered Tim's legs so that he could get into the bathroom, where he found Tim unconscious on the floor with a bloody gash on his forehead. There was a pool of water where the shower had leaked onto the floor, which most likely meant a slip and fall. Matt snatched the phone off the tile and then pressed two fingers to Tim's neck.

"Pulse is strong and steady," Matt relayed to the 911 operator, "but he's unconscious. There's a wound on his forehead, and it's still bleeding. No other wounds are visible. What's the ETA on medics?"

"Less than five minutes out, Sir," the EMT operator replied. "Are you able to wake the victim?"

Matt set the phone aside and leaned over the older man, "Tim? Hey, Tim, can you hear me?" He rubbed his knuckles against Tim's sternum and breathed a sigh of relief when Tim moaned.

He grabbed the phone and reported back to the operator, "He's responding to painful stimulus."

"That's good," she replied. "Are you a first responder, sir?"

"I was a firefighter," Matt replied. "Are the EMTs close?"

"Yes. They should be there within the minute. Do you want to stay on the line?"

"No, but thank you for your help." Matt hung up and put his phone back in his pocket. Before he could try to wake Tim further, he heard the pounding of feet coming down the hallway.

"EMTs! Call out if you can hear us!"

"We're in here!"

The EMTs asked him to move out of the way in the small confines of the bathroom, which was difficult for Matt, and he eventually had to accept help from one of them to get to his feet. He watched from the hallway as they assessed Tim and got him on a backboard. Tim was starting to come around, but he was groggy and confused. 

In the end, the EMTs wouldn't let him ride in the ambulance, and Matt was stopped by the firefighters who had also responded to the call. He knew the guys, and they offered to give him a lift to the hospital in the engine, but he declined and gathered his discarded crutch from the living room floor before he headed downstairs to hail a cab. 

Since Matt wasn't next of kin or Tim's power of attorney, there wasn't much that he could do besides settle in for a long night in the ER waiting room. The nurses couldn’t give him any information without Tim's consent, and all he'd asked of them was that they ask Tim for it when he was coherent. 

As soon as Matt sat down, his legs started to bounce anxiously. He got back up and went in search of a private bathroom. Luckily, he found a handicapped one down a side hallway a ways from the waiting room. He locked the door and went to the sink to splash water on his face.

When he closed his eyes, he saw the smoke and the blood and Tim's body, so still and – Matt shuddered and stumbled to the wall so that he could slide down and curl in on himself. It was an awkward position, and it made his back ache, but he needed the shocking bite of the cold tile floor to ground him. Tim would be okay. He was getting treated, and he would be fine. Matt had to keep reminding himself of that as the stress of the night overwhelmed him and tears fell relentlessly. 

Eventually, he dragged himself back to his feet and splashed more water on his face. He avoided looking in the mirror, knowing the face that would stare back was tired and drawn and pale without needing the visual of it. 

He was going into his second hour of waiting when a pretty nurse with long, dark brown hair found him in the corner, where he'd sat himself away from the crying children and the worst of the coughers. Her brown eyes reminded him of Tim, and he hoped she had good news. "Mr. Bomer?"

"Yes," Matt sat up straight and smiled brightly at her. "Is Tim awake?"

"He is, and he's asking for you. If you'll follow me." She waited patiently for him to stand, which was hard to do since he'd grown stiff from sitting in the terrible plastic chairs, and his legs were aching from falling on the bathroom tile at Tim's. "I'm Gloria."

"Nice to meet you." Matt's mother had taught him to always be polite, and it didn't hurt to get the nurses on your good side. "How's Tim?"

"He's doing very well. We're admitting him for the night because of the concussion, and I'll be his nurse until the morning." She pressed the up button at the elevator banks, and they waited for one of the cars to arrive.

"Concussion?" Matt had horrible mental images of brain damage outcomes running through his head, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and remind himself to breathe for a moment.

"Mr. Bomer, are you okay?" Gloria's hand was on his shoulder, and Matt took a step back and almost fell.

"Matt. Please call me Matt." 

"Do you need to sit down, Matt?"

"No," he shook his head and straightened his back. "I just need to see my friend."

She nodded and led him into a waiting elevator car. The rest of the trip to Tim's room was spent in silence, and by the time they got there, Matt had gotten himself under control. Gloria held the door open for him, and Matt made his way to Tim's side. 

"Hey," Tim greeted, with a dopey smile. He waved an uncoordinated hand, and Matt reached for it as soon as he was seated in the chair by the bed. His eyes were drawn to the white bandage on Tim's forehead for a moment before he met his friend's brown eyes.

"Hey babe," Matt replied quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Embarrassed." Tim sighed. "I can't believe I slipped and fell and almost burned the apartment down."

"The important thing is that you're going to be okay." Matt scooted his chair closer to the bed. "What did the doctor say?"

"I have a pretty nasty concussion, and they want to keep an eye on me here tonight, with all this stuff." He raised his IV-impaled hand and pointed at he monitors behind his head. The hand that Matt was holding had a large, white pulse-ox monitor clipped to his index finger. 

"How's your head?" 

"It hurts," Tim replied, "but otherwise I'm okay. I was sick earlier, but they gave me something."

Matt nodded. "Why don't you get some rest?"

"I'm sorry I ruined dinner."

"It's okay. You can owe me one," Matt smiled softly. "Now, close your eyes and get some sleep. Please."

"Are you going home?"

"I'll stay for a while, but I think they'll kick me out when visiting hours end. I'll come back in the morning though."

"Okay," Tim replied and then yawned.

Matt leaned closer and kissed his forehead. "Sleep well."

The next morning, Matt stopped by a deli near the hospital and got a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit for Tim and a fruit cup for himself. Even though many years had passed since he'd spent significant time in the hospital, he would never forget the gruel they tried to pass off as food. 

He knocked lightly on Tim's door and then opened it to see if he was awake. The TV was playing the morning news, and Tim's eyes had been closed, but they popped open as Matt made his way inside. "Morning," Tim greeted politely.

"Good morning." Matt smiled and gave Tim a peck on the lips before he sat down in the visitor's chair and pulled off the messenger bag that was slung over his shoulders. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. Hoping they let me go home today."

Matt grimaced in sympathy. "Didn't get any sleep last night, did you?"

"Not at all. Every time I closed my eyes, the nurse was right there, waking me right back up." 

"They do that. I was convinced it was some sort of torture technique when I was stuck in a hospital bed." He pulled out the bag of breakfast food while he was talking and handed the wrapped biscuit over to Tim.

"What's this? Did you bring me breakfast?"

Matt shrugged. "It's not much. I didn't know if you'd be up for food, and I remember how bad the food is here."

"Thank you," Tim said, grateful. He unwrapped the biscuit and took a bite, almost moaning from the taste. "This is the best breakfast ever."

Laughing, Matt reached out and felt Tim's forehead. "No fever. What kind of drugs do they have you on?"

Tim held up both hands to show that they were IV free. "None this morning, unfortunately. But I was made to eat cardboard and concrete last night for dinner." Tim 'mmmm'ed as he finished his breakfast and then smiled at Matt. 

"What?" Matt patted his hands down his shirt and then across his face to see if he had anything on him. He hadn't taken more than one bite from his fruit cup, so he couldn't imagine that he'd dropped something on himself.

"I'm just glad you're here."

"I'm just glad you're okay." Matt set his food aside and looked down at his hands, which he clasped together in his lap. "When you didn't answer your door, and then I saw smoke coming out from under it…"

"Hey, Matty," Tim sat up and reached out to grip Matt's hands, "I'm okay. I'm sorry for scaring you."

Matt pulled away and stood, wishing that he could pace like he wanted to. Instead, he took five halting steps to the closest window and put his hand against the wall to help him keep his balance. He stared out at the courtyard outside the hospital and worried his lip. "It's not your fault. It was an accident. Just an accident."

He heard Tim get out of bed and walk up behind him. A moment later, he felt Tim's hand settle on his upper back, between his shoulder blades. "That doesn't make it any less terrifying," Tim said quietly.

Matt's composure broke at the combination of Tim's touch and his words. He turned and threw his arms around Tim, stumbling for a moment when his feet got tangled together, but Tim returned the embrace and held him up. Tears rose in his eyes and spilled out onto the thin gown covering Tim's shoulder.

Tim held him as all of the emotion – the fear and flashbacks and pain and sadness – of the last day released in a weepy mess. He felt Tim's hand rubbing his back and felt the air moving against his ear as the older man whispered reassurances that Matt didn't really hear. It took him several minutes to calm himself, stand up straight and pull away from Tim's arms. 

"Are you okay?" Tim asked in a low and gentle voice.

"Yes. I'm sorry. That was…" Matt swiped his hands across his face to get rid of the worst of the leftover tears. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Come over and sit with me." Tim put his arm around Matt's waist and walked with him over to the bed, where they sat down side by side with their legs dangling from the mattress. "Will you tell me what's going on in there?" He brushed Matt's hair back and tapped his temple with one finger.

Matt huffed a weary laugh. "There's so much. I don't know where to start."

"Start with the fire."

"It wasn't the fire. Smoke always reminds me of that day. I don't know why. I don't have an actual memory of it, but every time I see smoke, or smell it, I start to feel claustrophobic and my legs tingle, and I can't breathe." He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. "But that's not… I was so scared for you. I couldn't find you, but I knew something was wrong."

Tim slowly threaded his fingers through Matt's and squeezed his hand without saying anything. Matt twitched but didn't pull away, and after a long moment, he squeezed back.

"There's something else you should know." Matt took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. "My last long-term relationship ended while I was in the hospital. We'd been together for a little over two years, but it was too much for him. We made it through a couple of surgeries, and some rehab, and the prognosis was looking better, but my doctor sat us down and explained all the little things that I have to do to make each day productive. 

I watched his face when he realized this wasn't a broken leg that would heal and be 'normal'. This was a lifetime commitment of good days versus bad days, and walkers versus crutches versus a wheelchair, and modifications in the apartment, and I don't… People with spinal cord injuries have a decreased life expectancy. It's a lot to live with every day, and I can't move forward with you until you know that."

Matt's eyes were stinging again, but he didn't want to cry. He didn't want to be the blubbering boyfriend who needed to be comforted. He pulled his hand away from Tim's but didn't get off the bed. 

"Matt--"

"Please let me finish. I care about you, and I think that this can be more. I _want_ this to be more, but I don't think I can go through that again. I need to know if this is something that you think you can handle."

Tim was silent for long enough that Matt was forced to look over at him to check his facial expression. To his surprise, Tim was crying silent tears.

"I'm sorry," Matt said, as he slid off the bed. He stumbled when his feet touched the floor earlier than he'd been expecting, and Tim reached out to steady him. As soon as Tim's hand closed over Matt's bicep, they both froze.

"I know it's not going to be easy," Tim's voice broke and he had to take a breath. "And I know that there's so much more that I need to learn about, but I want to be there for you, with you."

Matt held Tim's gaze as the wall around his heart crumbled and he finally let himself believe that he could let someone in, that he could share that part of himself with someone. Finally, he nodded and gave Tim a deep, meaningful kiss. 

Two hours later, they were still waiting for Tim's doctor to officially release him, so they were sharing the bed, reclining shoulder-to-shoulder as they half-dozed and half-watched a daytime talk show. In the middle of a segment about using newspaper for streak-free window cleaning, there was a knock on the door. 

"Come in," Tim called out while Matt shifted, trying to get up. Tim put a hand on his thigh to keep him in place.

"Good morning." An older woman with dark skin and a pleasant smile walked into the room. She was carrying a small, leather duffle bag in one hand, which she sat on the visitor's chair that Matt had originally been sitting in. 

Tim grinned and motioned for her to move closer. "Diahann, this is Matt, the bookstore owner I was telling you about. Matt, this is my business partner and very good friend, Diahann."

Matt sat up and held his hand out for Diahann. "It's nice to meet you."

"Oh, no, it's so nice to finally meet you." Diahann didn't shake his hand so much as clasp it and hold on for a moment. "Tim didn't tell me how handsome you are."

Matt blushed but had a teasing tone when he replied, "No? That's usually the first thing people say about me."

Diahann laughed and turned her attention to Tim. "As you requested, I brought you the change of clothes from your office."

"Thank you. The clothes that survived the ER all smell like smoke. I'm just going to toss them, but I didn't want to go home with my ass hanging out."

Matt smirked but held his tongue. There were things he would say if Diahann wasn't in the room, but he was raised to be a gentleman, and he wouldn't talk that way in front of a lady.

"It is a nice derrière though, don't you think Matt?"

Matt's mouth dropped open, and when Diahann started to chuckle, he laughed so hard that he almost fell off the bed. 

"Haha. Laugh it up." Tim's tone sounded annoyed, but he was smiling as he climbed off the bed and held his hand out for the bag. Diahann passed it to him, and he disappeared into the bathroom to change.

"So, Matt, tell me a little about yourself." Diahann sat down beside the bed and looked over at him expectantly. "Tim has hardly told me anything."

Matt bit his lip and looked down at his hands. "There's not much to say. I own a bookstore in the Village, and I spend most days there. We do a pretty good online business, but there's not many people who come in looking for physical books anymore."

"That's a shame. I've always loved the crisp pages and smell of a new book, and the softness of an old one. There's just something about them."

He nodded and smiled. "Yes, exactly! I've always loved to read, and there was a time when that was pretty much all I did, so I wanted to open the store for the other readers out there."

"I would love to stop in some time. I'm always looking for a good book."

"What kind of books do you like? I'll set some aside for you."

"Oh, there's no need to do that."

"I insist. We have a varied selection, so I’m sure I can find something for you." Matt was ready to take mental notes so that he could be sure to have a special book or two waiting for her.

"I love a good murder mystery. Agatha Christie is a favorite, but there are many authors of the genre that can spin a nice yarn. And I also like biographies, especially of the classic movie stars. They led some fascinating lives."

"I will certainly keep an eye out for those and let you know if anything good pops up."

"Thank you. That would be most appreciated."

The conversation lulled into silence, and Matt was about to ask her about her job when Tim stepped out of the bathroom and all the thoughts dropped out of his head except one: _Tim is sexy_. He was wearing a pair of jeans that were snug in all the right places, and a navy blue t-shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and muscular biceps. 

"No doctor yet?" Tim looked disappointed as he sat on the bed near Matt's feet.

"Should I go round one up?" Diahann had already stood and was halfway across the room as she spoke.

"No, no," Tim tried to stop her but he was too late. She was out the door.

Matt moved his legs so that he could get off the bed if she did come back with someone who could discharge his friend. They would want to examine Tim one more time despite the fact that he'd gotten dressed. "She's great. We were talking about what kinds of books she likes."

"She's been an amazing friend," Tim replied. "When Andrew left me, I didn't even want to get out of bed. She let me wallow for like four days, and then she came over and got me up, shoved me into the shower, and got me focused on work. It was the best thing anyone could have done."

The door opened before Matt could respond to that, and Diahann returned with Tim's doctor. There was a brief exam, and then Tim was signing discharge papers and accepting a packet of information about caring for his concussion and a prescription for an antiemetic, in case he needed it. He was also cautioned to have someone stay with him for the next 24-48 hours, and Matt stepped up and invited Tim back to his place before anyone else could say anything.

Diahann offered to drive them to Matt's, but Tim wanted to stop by his apartment first to pack a bag. In the end, Matt hailed a cab to take him home so that he could make sure that his apartment was guest-appropriate, and Diahann took Tim to his place and then dropped him at Matt's.

It didn't take long for Matt to settle Tim on the bed with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol on the nightstand. Tim was flipping through Matt's cable package while Matt sat in the floor and did some exercises and stretches that he hadn't had time to do before he went to the hospital that morning.

"Do you do those every day?" Tim asked, when his curiosity got the best of him.

"Yeah. Usually first thing in the morning. I have to keep all the muscles limber." 

Tim nodded and turned back to the TV. Matt noticed that he snuck glances every few minutes until he was done with the routine.

He used his arms to pull himself backwards to where the wheelchair was stationed by the wall. Then, he pulled himself up into the seat of the wheelchair so that he could grab his crutches from where they were leaning against the wall and stand all the way up. 

"I'm going to grab a bottle of water. Do you need anything?"

Time declined, and Matt quickly grabbed his bottle from the fridge. He put it in the oversized pocket of the track pants he'd changed into after he got home and headed back into the bedroom.

He sat down on the bed, noticing that Tim had his eyes closed despite the fact that the TV was playing an old spaghetti western. "How're you doing?"

"Not too bad," Tim replied, turning his head and opening his eyes to look at Matt. "Just a dull ache."

Matt nodded and started to pull his legs up onto the mattress when Tim's hand on his arm stopped him. 

"Can I ask you something?" Tim's voice was hesitant, which made Matt uneasy.

"Of course."

"Would you play something on the guitar?"

Matt frowned and glanced over at the instrument on its stand nearby.

"I've been dying to hear you play since I saw the guitars here last week."

"It's been a while since I played," Matt revealed. "I learned when I was a teenager, and it was good therapy for my hands after I was injured."

"Your hands?"

Matt nodded. "My main injury was pretty low on my back but there was bruising and swelling and everything… Your nerves kind of go haywire."

"Ah," Tim nodded in understanding. "Please, Matty."

Matt conceded by getting up and grabbing the acoustic guitar. It was only a few steps there and back, and he made it without even a wobble despite being tired after his workout. Back on the bed, he strummed a few chords and adjusted the strings. "Any requests?"

"Anything you want to play." Tim grinned and sat up straighter against the headboard. His full attention was on Matt, and Matt started to sweat a bit.

Matt thought about the songs he knew while he played a few chords at random. Finally, he settled on a melody and started to sing.

_I can hear your heart beat for a thousand miles_   
_And the heavens open every time you smile_   
_And when I come to you that's where I belong_   
_Yet I'm running to you like a river's song_

_You give me love, love, love, love, crazy love_   
_You give me love, love, love, love, crazy love_

_You've got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down_   
_And when I come to you when the sun goes down_   
_Take away my trouble, take away my grief_   
_Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief_

_You give me love, love, love, love, crazy love_   
_You give me love, love, love, love, crazy love_

Though there were more lyrics, Matt had forgotten them when he looked up and met Tim's gaze. In that moment, he saw the naked love and respect that Tim had for him, and he hoped that it was mirrored in his own expression, because he felt the same way about the other man.

Matt set the guitar aside and leaned over to give Tim a kiss that was full of hope and promise and so many other unnamable things. 

~End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) The lyrics are from "Crazy Love" by Van Morrison. I've altered them slightly as I feel Matt would do when singing to Tim. 2) Many, many thanks to everyone who read and commented and encouraged this story. Embroiderama, Elrhiarhodan, and theatregirl7299 definitely kept me going. This is the end of this story, but not the end of this 'verse. Stay tuned for more adventures in the Bookstore!AU.


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